


The Devil's Knight

by MewmewRAWR



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Demon!Dean as one of Lucifers "Knights of Hell"), (Eventual mention of some other characters), (Rated mature just to be safe), (Will be multichaptered), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewmewRAWR/pseuds/MewmewRAWR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester died and found himself back in hell, where he eventually lost his humanity and made the transition from human to demon--something that didn't come as much of a surprise to him. What does come as a surprise however, is when he finds himself being hand picked by the prince of darkness to be one of his knights, and what came as an even bigger surprise, is when the former hunter finds himself accepting the position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knight of the pentagram table

Deans eyes scanned across the tools spread out over the table, and he gave a thoughtful hum as he picked them up and set them down, looking each one over. “So what d’ya think? Scalpel?” He smirked a bit as he turned his attention to the wounded and whimpering man bound to the rack in front of him. He laughed quietly at the “no”s and the “please don’t do this”s, as he reached for the object. “Scalpel it is.”

The part of Dean that was still somewhat human ( _if he had any right at all to claim that a part of him still was after everything he’d done_ ) —that small sliver that still cared about what was right and what was wrong nagged at him as he let the scalpel slice through the tender flesh, reminded him that this was  _wrong_ , that the fact that he was enjoying this was utterly  _sick_ , but after fifty more years in hell (he’d lost count years ago of what that was in earth time) he just couldn’t bring himself to care anymore, not about the fact that he was torturing again, or about how it had only taken him half as long to give in this time.

He was too far damaged now, his humanity had been lost a long time ago and he couldn’t be saved— _that’s what he told himself at least_ —he  _wouldn’t_  be saved. The angels had no reason to rescue him now— _he wasn’t their righteous man anymore, and what good would a demon do them?_  The only one that might have wanted to was now powerless to do so, and Sam…Dean frowned slightly at the thought of his younger brother, his hand stilling it’s movements for a moment.

Sam probably wasn’t even looking for him— _he hadn’t while Dean was in purgatory_ , and while the rational part of Dean could understand that it was because Sam hadn’t  _known_  where to look, hadn’t even know where to start, the part of him that had become more bitter, and angry from hell told him that he  _should_  have known, that some sort of brothers intuition should have told him where to look, and that if he’d cared enough he would have at least  _tried_.

His expression contorted into a scowl, and rage boiled up inside of him—rage which he took out on the poor unfortunate soul strapped to the rack before him without a moments hesitation; slicing, and cutting and carving until the skin and muscle tissue had been painfully stripped away and there was nothing left but bones for him to break. He was about to reach for one of the femurs to do just that when two demons came to a stop behind him. Dean turned to look at them, eyes narrowing.

“You need something?”

It was the demon on the left, a female, who spoke up. “Lucifer would like to see you.”

“Yeah? Well tell him to make an appointment, i’m a little  _busy_  right now.” The Winchester turned his back to them, intending to resume where he’d left off in his torturing, but before he had a chance to register what was happening, he found himself being grabbed by the arms and hauled off to the devil’s chambers, stumbling a few steps as the demons relinquished their grip on him and shoved him forward.

The former hunter turned a bit to glare at them, before looking around. This was the first time he’d actually been to this part of hell, and it was much nicer than Dean had imagined it would be—- _as nice as anything in hell was capable of being,_ he silently reminded himself. The devil wasn’t sitting upon a throne compiled of fractured skulls, and there was no throw rug made out of some poor bastard’s skin splayed out at his feet like Dean had expected. In fact, if it weren’t for the distant echoing of the blood curling screams of the tortured and the damned, it might have actually been almost pleasant.

His gaze settled back on Lucifer, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “So, I heard you wanted to see me.”

There was a ghost of a smile on the devils lips, and he inclined his head slightly to one side as he looked at Dean with a sort of fondness—reminiscent of the kind of fondness one might display while looking at a favored pet. It made Dean’s eyes narrow and his jaw clench, which only seemed to amuse the devil further.

After a moment Lucifer raised a hand, waving it dismissively towards the two demons who had brought the former righteous man to him. “You can leave now, I wish to speak to him alone.”

The Winchester couldn’t help but jeer, “I’d advice against that, unless you  _want_  me to kill you.”

“Oh Dean,” there was a hint of amusement in the fallen angels voice as he spoke. “You couldn’t even if you tried. You couldn’t kill me as a human, and you certainly can’t as a demon.” He leaned forward a bit in his seat, the corners of his lips quirking upward into a smirk. “I  _own_  you now Dean, the second you became a demon you became mine, so be a good boy and behave yourself. I only want to talk.”

The former hunters eyes only narrowed further, glaring hard at the blonde man— _being_ , seated before him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “About  _what_?”

The devil propped one of his elbows up on the arm of his chair, letting his chin rest against the palm of his hand. “I have an offer for you.”

“Yeah? Well you can take your offer and shove it up your ass, cause unless it’s a one way ticket outta this shit-hole, or your head on a fucking platter, i’m not interested.”

Lucifer frowned slightly “Firstly,  _rude_. Secondly, I think you would be if you’d just hear me out.”

Dean stood silently and continued his glaring, and the devil took this as an opportunity to continue speaking. “I want you to be my knight”, he said simply, causing the Winchester’s brows to knit together in confusion. He was aware of what the knights of hell were; demons, hand picked by Lucifer himself, they were some of hell’s most powerful beings. What he didn’t understand though, was why Lucifer would choose  _him_ , especially given their less that desirable history.

“No” He said flatly, prompting another frown from the fallen angel. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got something to I gotta get back to”, and with that he turned his back to the devil, starting to leave.

“The position isn’t without perks, Dean.”

The hunter was surprised when he found himself stopping in his tracks with the following words leaving his lips, surprised that he was suddenly contemplating the offer instead of telling Satan to get bent like he should have. “…What kinda perks?”

Lucifer seemed pleased with the possibility that the Winchester just might consider his offer after all, the corners of his lips quirking upward into a small smile. “Anything you want…Within reason, of course.”

Dean took a moment, wetting his lips and furrowing his brows in throught,  _anything he wanted?_  He turned back around, green eyes searching the devil’s face curiously for any hint of a trick “…Why me? Why do you want  _me_  of all people to be one of the knights of the pentagram table or whatever the hell it is. This your idea of some new kinda punishment or something?”

The question earned him a small chuckle from the Morningstar, who regarded him once more with that same fond sort of look as before. “On the contrary, Dean, it’s a reward.”

Dean swallowed, looking Lucifer in the eyes this time. “You didn’t answer my question. Why me?” The former archangel simply smiled at him in response, “Because you’re very loyal, you’ll make an excellent knight.”

The Winchester couldn’t hold back the bout of laughter that erupted from him, “Yeah, i’m loyal, but not to  _you_.”

The devil’s smile only widened. “You’ll learn to be, they always do..”


	2. Blood eagle

If the Archangels were known as heaven’s most terrifying weapons, then the Knights of Hell were definitely Hell’s most fearsome, and now Dean Winchester— _heavens former righteous man himself_ , was one of them. His brows knit together in bewilderment at the very thought; he still wasn’t sure  _how_  this had happened, wasn’t sure  _why_  the devil had decided that Dean of all people was the right person— _thing_ , he corrected himself a moment later,  _that’s_   _what he was now, wasn’t he? Demon’s weren’t people, not anymore_ —for the position. 

What he  _was_  sure of however, was that there was some form of bitter irony to this whole situation, sure that some higher power somewhere must have been laughing its ass off and getting a real kick out of how his life had turned out—how he had, in a sense, gone from being one type of knight to another. Sure, he had been heaven’s designated righteous man at one point, but even before that, it seems that the duty of being a chevalier had already been thrust upon him, or more precisely, into his arms.

He had after all, spent his entire human life protecting and looking after his little brother, providing Sam with everything he needed— _to the best of his abilities_ , and keeping him safe, that had been the duty that his father has entrusted him with since the age of four. He had been the wide eyed, chubby cheeked little Sammy’s protector, his guardian— _his knight_ , and now, here he was, taking orders from the devil.  _The same devil who wanted to_ _wear his little brother._

 _Yeah_ , he thought to himself bitterly, exhaling sharply in a little huff through his nostrils, there was definitely some type of fucked up irony to all of this, even if he was the only one who saw it right now.

A high pitched scream broke his focus, and the hunter stopped his musings, deciding instead to turn his full attention back to his current victim. “Sorry about that sweetheart, but don’t you worry, you’ve got my undivided attention now.” he drawled out, the corners of his lips quirking upward into a slight smirk.

Dean removed his hands from the gaping hole in the woman’s back earning him another shrill shriek, and stepped back a few steps to admire his latest handy work. The Winchester had grown bored of the convention ’slice and dice’ methods lately, and had been experiment with different torture styles from different eras. Today he had decided to attempt a little something refered to as ‘the blood eagle’. It was something which interestingly enough, he had learned about from a documentary on the history channel, not time spent in Hell— _who says TV never teaches you anything useful?_

He pursed his lips thoughtfully as he looked the woman over, his eyes reverting from solid black, back to green irises in the process. Dean watched as the woman took labored, shallow breaths, could physically  _see_  as her lungs expanded and collapsed, and he  _knew_  that it was sick how breathtakingly beautiful he found the sight of her blood stained ribs, broken and splayed through the cavity in her back so that they resembled wings— _oh, he knew alright,_ but that didn’t stop him from smirking proudly at his work, or quietly muttering “not bad” to himself.

“Well someone’s getting creative~” A voice chimed in from behind him, and he spun around as the devil continued “I believe you could give even Alastair a run for his money right now, Dean.”

The former hunter looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing in annoyance at the other’s presence. “What the fuck do  _you_  want?”

Lucifer tutted at Dean’s tone, “Now Dean,” he said softly, waggling his finger at the other in a chastising manner, “that’s no way to address me. I would have thought that you’d have known better than that by now.”

Dean rolled his eyes “My bad, what the fuck do you want,  _your majesty_.”

The devil stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, and the former hunter half expected to end up smote right then and there, until the corners of Lucifer’s lips suddenly quirked upward in amusement. “That’s more like it.” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed a bit— _either the devil was incapable of detecting sarcasm, or he was simply letting it slide._  ”As for what i’m doing here, I have a job for you. There’s something I need you to get for me.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows rose a bit in mock interest, “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, other than the fact that it’s part of your job description as my knight…” The archangel idly picked up one of the tools from the nearby table as he spoke, looking at his reflection in the polished surface of the object, “You’ll get to go topside for a bit.”

“…I’ll get to go to earth?” The hunter asked curiously, blinking a few times in disbelief. It had been years— _at least that’s how it felt in Hell_ —since he’d set foot on earth.

“No, Dean, i’m sending you to the moon.” The devil scoffed a bit, setting the object back down among the others and turning back to look at the other. “ _Yes_ , you’ll get to go to earth.”

“Well why the hell didn’t you just say that in the first place.”

“I wasn’t aware that it was a requirement.” The Morningstar responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before he shook his head, and started walking, gesturing for Dean to follow him, which the hunter— _reluctantly_ , did.


	3. Tricked

_It felt so strange_ , Dean thought to himself as he stretched out his limbs,  _possessing his own body like this_ — _like some foreign entity wearing his own skin_. He stared down at his hands, turning them so that his palms faced upward, before slowly flexing his fingers; curling and clenching them tightly to form a fist with each hand, before relaxing them again. He frowned a bit at the slight stiffness of his joints—probably from their lack of use, he had after all, been dead for a few months now—but assumed that eventually it would go away.

After a few moments the former hunter clambered to his feet, standing tall and brushing clumps of dirt from his clothing. His brows furrowed slightly in confusion as his fingers brushed over a tender spot on his chest—his body shouldn’t be sore, a little stiff maybe, but not sore, any injuries it had acquired prior to his death should have been healed by now—that was one of the ‘perks’ of his new position that he had taken advantage of.

Dean had stated that he would,  _on one condition_ , go to earth to fetch whatever the devil wanted him to. Whatever it was he would retrieve it, as long as he were able to do so while possessing his own body—which the devil had assured him would be ‘tuned up’ a bit.

Curiously, he reached up to pull the collar of his shirt down to inspect the area. Over his tattoo was a brand—the devils trident which effectively seemed to do two things at the moment; one, it broke the anti-possession symbol, allowing him to possess his own body, and two, it acted as a binding link, making it impossible for him to be exorcised, or to voluntarily leave his body— _not that he planned to._

He supposed that perhaps, there was a  _third_  purpose to the brand— _to show Lucifer’s claim to him and his soul_ —but he preferred not to think too long or hard on that option, and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He thought instead, of what his next course of actions should be—he supposed that he  _should_  get started on the task the devil had sent him on, but he figured that it could wait a little while longer. He had meant it when he told the Morningstar his loyalties didn’t lie with him, and he intended to make that clear, and while he  _would_  do the job— _eventually_ —it wouldn’t be his top priority.

A minute or so later, the ex-hunter had decided on a desitination, and now stood in the parking lot of a motel somewhere in Illinois, a familiar vehicle catching his eye and causing the corners of his lips to quirk upward into a small smile. “Hey baby, miss me? I sure missed you.” He leaned over a bit, peering in through the window to get a better look at the car’s interior, feeling sated when he found nothing new, or out of place. “S’good to see that Sam didn’t douche you up this time…”

His thoughts traveled back to his younger brother and he straightened up.  _Sam_. That had been why he came here, although he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not it was purely out of habit by this point. He shrugged, supposing his intentions didn’t matter much—it’s not like he was planning on hurting Sam, at least not yet, although it was possible that that was subject to change.

He strode across the parking lot, brows knitting together in thought as he looked at the numbers on the doors, wondering which room belonged to his little brother. Luck— _for perhaps the first time in years_ —seemed to be on his side however, and just as he approached one of the rooms the door swung open, and Dean was greeted with a startled gasp.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice shook with uncertainty as he stared wide eyed at his brother—or for all he knew, whatever it was that was wearing his brothers face.

“Hey Sammy,” A small smile ghosted across the elder Winchesters lips “it’s been a while…”

“A  _while_?” The younger man sounded incredulous, his brows furrowing together as his shock seemed to be replaced by another emotion, “Dean, it’s been months! Where—where the hell have you been?”

Dean shrugged, “It’s a long story…”

“You’re going to have to give me more than that, Dean! I thought—-” Sam’s voice grew softer as he went on “I thought something terrible had happened to you!”

 _You know don’t even know that half of it_ , Dean thought to himself, barely containing a snort. “Yeah well…we gonna just stand here all day and talk about this out in the open, or you gonna let me in?” It was a bold move to ask for entry to the room, and he knew that, but maybe,  _just maybe_ , Sam wasn’t thinking like a hunter at the moment, maybe the thought that he should be testing Dean— _checking to see if he was human_ , would simply slip his mind.

The brunette stared down at him for a moment, before nodding and stepping aside “Yeah, sure. You want a beer or something?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Dean stepped forward and shut the door behind him while Sam made his way into the kitchenette to retrieve two beers. The elder Winchester glanced around the room for any sighs that somebody else had been staying there. “Where’s Cas?”

Sam shrugged, coming back over and handing one of the beers to his brother. “I don’t know—Chicago I think, he took off on his own a little while after you disappeared, said something about how, now that he wasn’t an angel anymore it, would be best if we took separate routes, that way we could cover more ground while looking for you.”

Dean felt something in his chest tighten at his brothers words— _so_   _they’d been looking for him after all_. He nodded a bit, not trusting himself with words right now,  and took the offered beer, taking a sip.

The second the liquid passed from the bottle into his open mouth he knew something was wrong, and he coughed, sputtering a bit. ”Oh, you clever bastard…You spiked my beer with holy water”  _It stung_ —not enough to send him howling in a rage like it would have done to a weaker demon, but enough to draw a pained hiss from him. He let the bottle slip from his hand and spat, before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and glancing up to meet his brother’s gaze.

“Now where’d you go and learn a trick like that, Sammy?”

“ _Don’t_  call me that.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, earning a chuckle from the other.

Dean supposed that there was a part of him— _the part of him that wasn’t mildly ticked off about having his secret discovered_ , that was actually proud of his little brother right now. Sam was smart, always had been. “I gotta hand it to you, Sam…I really didn’t see that one coming.”

“What did you do with my brother?”

Dean shook his head, giving the younger male a pitying look. “I know you’re not gonna believe me—and hell, maybe a part of me is glad for that, glad that you won’t believe that this is what I turned into, but it really is me, Sammy…”

“You’re  _lying_.” The accusation came out strong, and with all the confidence that Dean knew Sam possessed.

The former hunter frowned a bit—apparently he still had enough humanity left to feel some small shred of guilt, although he wasn’t sure for what, maybe it was for everything, maybe it was for letting his brother down by allowing himself to become a monster— _maybe it was just because of Sam’s presence_ ,  _he always had been what had kept him human, after all_.

“I really wish I was…”


	4. Ring

Seeing Sam— _or more specifically, Sam seeing him and finding out what he’d become_ , had significantly soured Dean’s mood. So much so, that in his wake he’d left a— _what he considered to be_ —‘news worthy’ amount of dead patrons in several different bars scattered across the Chicago area. A small frown etched itself across his features as he thought about what he’d done—or rather, about the repercussions it may have; he found himself wondering if Sam would hear about the murders, if he would make the connection, and how he would feel if he did. Would Sam hate him?  _Did he already?_

Dean shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts. It didn’t matter anymore what Sam thought of him. Didn’t matter how his little brother had looked at him like he’d personally betrayed him— _had he?_ —when Dean had flashed his eyes black, and shown him the brand on his chest. It didn’t— _shouldn’t_ —matter that Sam— _Sam who had once loved the demon Ruby_ ,  _Sam who was the boy with the demon blood coursing through his veins_ , had looked at him like he was a monster.

But it did matter. And for some reason that frustrated the former hunter to no end. 

 _Now wasn’t the time to think about that though_ , he reminded himself as he glanced down, focusing his attention on the small, wooden box he was holding. Curiously, he traced a bloodied fingertip along the edge of it and over one of the carvings etched into it. His brows furrowed, and he frowned a bit, not recognizing the symbols—Enochian maybe, or perhaps some other ancient language he didn’t understand. 

Upon further inspection of the box, his brows furrowed more, there were no hinges, or any trace of an opening— _how the hell did this thing open?_  He shrugged, deciding that it would be best to just hurry up and drop it off so that he could finally be done with his little errand, and with that in mind he purposefully made his way through hell, towards the devil’s chambers.

“Heads up, Satan, got a special delivery.”

Lucifer looked over at him upon hearing his announcement, and waved away the two demons he’d been speaking to. He remained seated in his throne— _which in Dean’s opinion was just a glorified armchair_ , surveying the hunter for a moment.

“Did you have much,” He paused, giving the Winchester— _in all his bloody glory_ —a quick once over “…trouble getting it?”

“Nope.” Dean tossed the box into the devil’s lap, its contents rattling around from the motion, and once again peaking the Winchesters curiosity. “That it?”

The fallen angel lifted the box up to eye level to inspect it, a small frown tugged at the corners of his lips— _most likely at the bloody fingerprints all over it_ , and he glanced up at the Winchester who smiled wrly at him in return. “Yes, this is all i’ll be requiring of you for now.” He looked back down at the box, reading its inscription, before calling out to the other again. “Oh, by the way, Dean?”

The hunter sighed heavily, stopping mid-step and spinning back around to face the devil. “ _What now_?”

“How did Sam react?”

Dean frowned, thrown off by the suddenness of the question, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly a few times, before he finally found his voice. “What?”

“I said,” Lucifer started, calmly placing the wooden box on top of his desk, and folding his hands in front of him, looking up to meet the Winchester’s gaze as he continued “How did Sam react, to you being a demon.”

 _Right_ ,  _of course he knew, he was Satan, why wouldn’t he know?_ “Well, first he tried to exorcise me, and then when that didn’t work he tried to stab me. So, not very well.”

The fallen angel frowned slightly and regarded the other with a pitying look. ”That’s a shame, I mean you two were always so close…” 

Dean wasn’t sure if the sympathy was genuine or not, but regardless his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. He was about to tell the devil that he didn’t need his pity, that he couldn’t even possibly begin to understand how he was feeling right now when a realization dawned on him suddenly—a realization that made his stomach churn. “Is that…” He tried to ignore the waver in his own voice, and hoped that the Morningstar wouldn’t notice it. “Is that why you did this to me?”

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about, Dean? Did  _what_  to you?”

“Made me a demon. I mean, it all makes sense now.” The hunter paused, swallowing dryly. “You did this to me so that Sam would look at me the same way your brother looked at you. Like a monster.”

The archangel stared quietly at him for some time, cycling through a series of emotions; First his eyes narrowed, brows furrowing angrily— _most likely at the accusation_ , then his expression softened slightly, the corners of his mouth turning downward into a frown, before he finally settled on something that Dean couldn’t quite read— _or maybe he just couldn’t understand that the devil was sitting there in front of him and looking sad._ “No, Dean.” when he finally spoke, he did so softly, “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even you.”

He frowned again looking..hurt? Was that the right word?  _Was_ _it even possible for the devil to feel hurt?_   ”I’m not as cruel as you think I am.”

The hunter simply gave a little huff in response, but decided not to comment any further on the subject. “Right…well, if uh, you don’t need me to fetch any more boxes, I’ll just…show myself out.”

“Don’t you want to know what’s inside of it?”

He raised an eyebrow, before allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, and slowly made his way around the devil’s desk to stand beside him. He watched curiously as Lucifer picked the box back up, handling it carefully and turning pieces of it certain ways— _apparently it was some sort of puzzle box_ , “What, are we summoning pinhead or something?” 

The devil looked over at him with furrowed brows, not getting the reference. “Who..?” Dean started back at him, “Dude, seriously? Hellrai—you know what, never mind.”

After a moment, there was a small click, and something dropped out from the underside of the box into the palm of Lucifer’s outstretched hand.

The Winchester squinted a bit, catching a glimpse of something silver and red. ”Is that…A ring? You sent me on a quest for a freakin’  _ring_? What, you planning on proposing to somebody or something?”

The Morningstar chuckled softly at Dean’s reaction and picked the ring up between his thumb and index finger, looking at it for a moment. “It’s a very  _special_  ring.”

“Yeah…Alright there, Sauron.” Ignoring the confused look the devil cast his way for the second time today, the hunter found himself leaning forward a bit and peering over the devil’s shoulder to get a better look at the ring. “So…what’s it do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[For anyone curious, the ring looks something like [this](http://i01.i.aliimg.com/wsphoto/v0/537106767/Pure-silver-font-b-ring-b-font-font-b-ruby-b-font-font-b-ring-b.jpg).]]


	5. Devil's Diary

Dean held a knife loosely in one hand, while the other firmly gripped the chin of the poor soul strapped to the rack before him, forcing her to look at him as he tried to decide on what he was going to do next— _at the moment he was torn between cutting her tongue out, or slitting her throat._  Narrowed green eyes stared hard into terrified hazel ones for a moment as he tried to make up his mind.  _Hazel_ , he thought, taking notice of their color,  _like Sam’s_. He tore his gaze away from them with a somewhat annoyed growl, and took a slight step back.

“Close your goddamn eyes, and don’t fucking open ‘em again.” He ordered, roughly grabbing a fistful of the woman’s matted auburn hair and twisting, painfully forcing her head back, and exposing her neck, which he pressed the blade of the knife to. “If I see you open them, i’ll cut them out.” He applied a bit of pressure to the knife against her pulse point, nicking her delicate skin when she swallowed. “ _Got it?_ ”

The woman whimpered, and shut her eyes tightly.

He let go of her hair and lightly patted her cheek. “Good girl.”

Drawing back the hand which held the knife, he wasted no time in stabbing the blade deep into her shoulder, where it remained when he released the handle. “Now, do me a favor,” he drawled out sweetly, smirking slightly, “and hold onto that for me.”

He turned his back to the woman and left quietly, heading down the halls of hell, no longer in the mood to torture. The truth was that— _as unwilling as he was to admit it_ —he’d been off his game for weeks now, since his little run in with Sam.

Every little thing about the souls on the rack seemed to remind him of his brother lately—like the woman’s hazel eyes. And when he remembered Sam, he remembered the look of betrayal in his eyes, clear as day— _and somehow, that look managed to sting him more than the holy water spiked beer had_.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself from this current train of thought, he simply needed something else to occupy himself with for the time being, something that would take his mind off of the fact that he’d let his little brother down and allowed himself to become a monster.

So he turned left, down a corridor full of empty cells, and made a beeline straight for the devil’s chambers.

Demons were generally discouraged— _by threat of torture_ —from entering Lucifer’s chambers uninvited and without his permission, but Dean always had been the type of person who liked testing boundaries and seeing how much he could get away with, so he didn’t bother knocking when he reached the two large, cherry wood doors, and instead just quietly let himself in.

He peered into the room, checking first to see if the archangel was present at the moment, and spotted him sitting at his desk.

“Hello, Dean.” The devil greeted, sensing the others presence but not bothering to look up from the object he was holding—which given the look of concentration on his face, he was studying quite intently.

“Hey.” The former hunter muttered back, lingering at the doorway for a moment, before crossing over the threshold and shutting the doors behind him.

“…I don’t remember sending for you.”

Dean could almost hear the thinly veiled ‘ _What are you doing here_ ’ and he shrugged a bit. “That’s cause you didn’t” as he spoke, he made his way across the room, stopping just a few feet sort of Lucifer’s desk and looking at him.

“Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” The fallen angel asked dully, finally glancing up and gracing him with a look, one eyebrow arching curiously as he inquired the purpose of the other’s visit.

The Winchester shrugged again, trying to seem as nonchalant as he possibly could about the matter, “I was bored, so I thought to myself ‘ _Why don’t I go keep my new buddy Satan company, see what he’s up to_ ’, and well, here I am.”He gestured with his hands to where he was standing, and smiled wryly, indicating the sarcastic intent of his statement.

This prompted a small chuckle from the devil who shortly afterwards returned his attention to the object which, now that Dean was close enough to see, appeared to be a scroll of some sort.

“Well, aren’t I lucky then?”

Dean frowned, arms crossing over his chest as he observed  the devil. From the looks of things the scroll was very worn, and whatever had been printed on it appeared to be extremely faded and difficult to make out, and the hunter watched as Lucifer squinted at it several times, his brows furrowing slightly on each occasion.

The Winchester looked away from him after a moment, and glanced around the room, strewn about it where some of the various objects he’d been asked to retrieve—the scroll the angel was currently trying to read being the most recent of the things he’d brought back.

“…Alright so what’s the deal with all this crap that you’ve been sending me out to fetch for you?” He quirked an eyebrow, picking a book up off of the desk and flipping through it, unable to understand any of the writing. “What’s this stuff  _do_? And don’t tell me ‘ _it’s none of my business_ ’, cause since i’m the one who brings it to you and all in the first damn place, I think I gotta right to know.”

The corners of Lucifer’s lips curved upward slightly in amusement, “What gives you the impression that any of these things do anything?”

“Cause why would you want all this stuff if it didn’t?”

“Maybe I want it simply because it’s  _mine_ , and it holds…sentimental value to me.” Upon hearing a snort from the other, the Morningstar’s gaze flickered over to him, lingering there for a moment, “Is that something you find difficult to believe, Dean?”

“Actually,  _yeah_ , it is. You don’t really seem like the sentimental type.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He smiled a bit, innocently enough— _though Dean knew that he was anything but that_ —and rested his chin against his open palm, regarding the former hunter calmly. “After all, I seem to have developed a certain fondness for you, haven’t I?”

The Winchester rolled his eyes, choosing not to think too much on the matter of the archangel saying he was fond of him, “Yeah well, I’m still not buying it. You’re planning something, and I wanna know what it is.”

The devil chuckled softly, gently shaking his head and returning his attention back to the scroll in hand. “You’re so paranoid, Dean,” he chastised in a bit of a playful tone. “If I were planning something, you would be one of the first to know about it.”

Dean just hummed in response, his eyes traveling back to the scroll that Lucifer seemed to focused on. “So, what’s that then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow curiously “Your diary?”

Another chuckle, followed by a reply. “Not quite.”

“Well what’s it say?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out..”

The hunters brows furrowed a bit slightly. “You just said this stuff is  _yours_ , didn’t you? So why do you gotta figure it out? Shouldn’t you know what it says?”

“It isn’t that simple, Dean.” Lucifer replied, then sighed heavily— _whether from the influx of questions, or the difficulty he was having reading the scroll Dean wasn’t quite sure_. “It’s very old, and much of the writing on it is hard to see…” he explained, “and I can’t possibly remember word for word every scroll that’s come into my possession over the thousands of years that I’ve been alive.”

“Oh, right…” Dean frowned a little,  _that actually made sense_. “Can’t you just…I dunno, make it brand new again?” he suggested.

“I’m afraid not…Angelic artifacts typically tend to be…well… _angel-proof_ , for lack of better term. I’m unable to alter it, even if it were just to restore it to it’s original state.”

“Huh…well, guess next time you wanna keep a diary you should get one of those password journals,” The Winchester smirked a bit, “I hear those things are pretty indestructible so it’ll make it through all the wear and tear..”

The devil rolled his eyes, huffing a little in annoyance as he turned his attention back to the scroll. “….For the last time, Dean, it’s not a diary.”

“Says you. You don’t even know what it says, it could totally be a diary.”

“It’s  _not_ ”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ OTL I'm sorry that this chapter took so long! I'm really horrible at updating frequently.   
> Tiny bit of a time skip since the last chapter, several weeks or so.]]


	6. Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
>    
>  [[Just to be clear, everything between the '—————'s is a flashback, to explain how and why Dean ended up in hell.]]   
> 

Dean sat alone, tucked away in a little booth in the far off corner of some small town diner in the middle of Cheyenne, Wyoming. The coffee he’d ordered from the cute blonde waitress had turned cold ages ago, but he didn’t care, he hadn’t come here for the coffee. He’d come to clear his head, or at least to try to.

He looked around at the people in the diner, the waitresses, the customers— _they were all people who were none the wiser of what he was_ ,  _of what he was capable of,_ and he found himself wishing that Sam was still like one of them.

But he wasn’t. Not since Dean had made the stupid mistake of revealing himself.

The former hunter sighed, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes for a moment, only to find that he was no longer alone when he opened them again. The devil stared at him silently from across the booth, and Dean slumped forward a bit in his seat.

“I thought you said you don’t got any more things for me to get right now.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why’re you here?” he asked, frowning a bit “Ain’t a guy entitled to some time alone in a while? Or was that not included as one of the ‘perks’ to our little agreement?”

The Morningstar looked at him for a moment, his expression thoughtful, “Do you remember how our agreement came to be?”

“Uh…Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t exactly that long ago…”

The angel shook his head, “No. I don’t mean our  _current_  agreement, I mean our original one. Do you remember why you made it, Dean?”

_Oh, that agreement,_ the Winchester laughed a bit, humorlessly, of course he remembered, how could he possibly forget? 

 —————

Dean’s vision started to blur, and he began to feel lightheaded, but still he struggled to remain conscious—not that it mattered he supposed, since the only things around for him to see were the numerous trees,  _oh_ , and the fallen angel that was currently beating him senseless.

His body jerked back from the force of each punch that collided with his face, and he stumbled, losing his footing and collapsing to his knees.

Blue eyes narrowed, glaring down at him, and Lucifer reached out and tightly grabbed the fabric of his jacket, dragging him back to his feet so that they were at eye level again. “ _Did you really think that your little plan would work?_ ” He let go of the other and drew his fist back, punching him and knocking him off of his feet once more.

In hindsight, it has been an incredibly stupid plan; thinking that somehow he could manage to single-handedly trap the devil in a ring of holy fire, and the hunter had known from the get-go that he didn’t have a shot—didn’t have a snowballs chance at defeating Lucifer, but it wasn’t until now, when he was getting pulverized— _for the second time in his life_ —by the archangel that it really dawned on him just how stupid his plan had been.

It also hadn’t dawned on him until now that he was probably going to die, here, in the middle of some woods in Maryland, without his brother or Castiel having the even slightest clue where to look for his body because neither of them even knew where he was, or what he was up to right now.

He closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the angel to grab him, to drag him to his feet and punch him again, and when he didn’t, the Winchester opened his eyes and stared up at him, blearily.

The devil simply scoffed, leaving him sprawled out on the ground. “I have more important things to do than beat you to death, Dean.”  He stepped away from the hunter, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find your brother and get him to say ‘ _yes_ ’.”

Dean was exhausted, and sore, his mouth tasted of iron and dirt, and he was sure that some of his rubs were been broken because every time he sucked in a fresh breath of air it felt like his chest was on fire, but he still picked himself up off the ground, still forced himself to stand as straight as he could, and called out after the devil.

“…What about me?” 

It comes out quieter than he intends for it to, and a little desperate, and at first he thinks that maybe the angel didn’t quite hear him, but then Lucifer stops, and turns, and stares him right in the eye. “What about you, Dean? I mean, I suppose if you  _really_  want me to, I can finish with you first..”

The hunter turned his head to the side and spat, blood and earth, then he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stared right back.

”…What I mean is…why don’t you use me as your vessel instead?” It’s crazy, and it’s desperate, but he’s officially run out of ideas, and there’s a part of his brain that thinks that maybe it’s got a concussion right now, because he’s obviously not thinking clearly anymore.

The devil just stared at him for a long time, tilting his head a bit, as though what Dean has just suggested hasn’t occurred to him before, but he looks interested at least, if not a bit skeptical.

“Look, I know that I was built for your douchebag of brother and all, but, I figured that, well, if I can hold him, I can hold you too, right?” He paused, receiving a nod of confirmation, “And I think that there’s even a pretty good chance that I could do it without ending up looking like the poor bastard you got on now.”

Lucifer brought his hand up, tapping his index finger thoughtfully against his chin. “I…suppose that would be plausible.” He looked at the eldest Winchester for a moment. “But why would you make an offer like this, Dean? What would you gain from it?”

“I ain’t making it to try and gain anything, I’m making it cause I know that Michael will kill my brother without a second thought if he thinks it’ll stop you, but if you got me, then you don’t need Sam, so he won’t have any reason to go after him. And he can’t just up and pull the old switcheroo deal like you can, cause Sammy’s got demon blood in him, and I’m willing to bet that don’t mix too well with self-righteous douchebaggery..”

The corners of the Morningstar’s lips quirked upward slightly, a small smile ghosting across his features briefly before vanishing, “So…” he circled him, hands clasped together behind his back, “Just to be clear…You’re offering yourself up to me, in place of Sam, with no expectations of receiving anything in return?”

“Exactly”

He came to a stop in front of the Winchester, blue eyes narrowing slightly “… _Why_?”

“…Look man, I get it, you’re wondering why I’d say no to Michael all this time, but yes to you, right? And you probably think there’s some kinda catch here, but there ain’t.” Dean paused, swallowing down a lump in his throat, “I’m just….I’m just trying to protect my brother…he’s all I got…and if this is what I gotta do to keep him safe from you and from Michael, then…I’m willing to do it.”

The fallen archangel inclined his head ever so slightly to the left, an expression akin to admiration crossing his features for a fleeting moment, “You’re very loyal to Sam…” he stepped forward, so that he was standing toe to toe with the hunter, and stared at him calmly. “I’ll tell you what, Dean, I’ll accept your offer not to take Sam as my vessel in exchange for you… _However_ …”

“However what..?”

“I don’t think that I’ll be taking you as my vessel either…Although I do appreciate the generous offer.”

Dean’s brows furrowed slightly, in confusion. “If you’re not gonna take me as a vessel, then what do you want with me?”

“I think that I could find other—perhaps even  _better_  uses for you.” He smiled, almost kindly, as though he were doing the hunter some wonderful favor, “Although…if I’m going to keep my end of the bargain about not taking my true vessel, then I’ll have to have a little… _insurance_ , to make sure that Michael cannot have his, either.”

“Deal.” Dean answered, much too quickly, and without thinking.

“Are you sure?” Lucifer asked, arching an eyebrow “You haven’t even heard what will happen to you once you agree.”

“I don’t care. Whatever it is, if it means you won’t take Sam, then just do it”

“Well, alright, if you insist…” The devil chuckled, raising a hand, ”Don’t worry, I’ll make this quick.” and with that said he flicked his wrist.

Dean was pretty sure he heard the snap of his own neck right before everything faded to black and his lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

The next thing he knew his nostrils were being assaulted by the smell of brimstone and burning flesh, and he felt a searing pain all over his body, and when he finally dared to open his eyes, he was suspended in midair, surrounded by lightning and hellfire.

 —————

“Yeah.” he muttered, the word coming out more bitterly than he’d anticipated for it to, “I remember why I did it.” 

Lucifer looked at him for a long time, tilting his head a bit as though he were analyzing the former hunter. “And do you regret it now?”

The question caught Dean off guard, and he just stared for a moment, brows knitting together, before he slowly shook his head. “No…No, I don’t regret it one bit.” And to his surprise, he meant it—he’d done this for Sam’s protection, and even if the little brother who had always adored him saw him as a monster now, he didn’t regret his decision to give himself in exchange for Sam.

The archangel smiled, as thought the Winchester had just passed some secret test and he was pleased with him for it. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
>  [[Okay so, if it wasn't clear, the reason why Lucifer sent Dean to hell after accepting his offer of him in exchange for Sam was because he needed to make sure that Michael couldn't have him—to even the playing field, so to speak. Since Lucifer was passing up on his true vessel, then he wanted to make sure that Michael couldn't have his either—so to make sure that Dean would be incapable of containing Michael, he sent him to hell, where he eventually became a demon, thus rendering him completely useless to Michael.]]   
> 


	7. Housekeeping

Dean interlocked his fingers behind his head and laid back; sprawling out over the asphalt he wearily stared upward at the night sky. He felt tired— _or whatever the equivalent of tired was for demons_. The object that Lucifer had sent him to find earlier had proved to be particularly difficult to obtain, and the efforts required had all but exhausted him. His brows furrowed a bit as his thoughts wandered back to the other objects; he still wondered what they were for, and he wasn’t buying the devil’s alibi for wanting them. 

‘ _Sentimental my ass_ ’ he muttered to himself as he recalled the fallen angels words. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind a moment later, and let his eyes slip shut as he tried to relax, focusing on the quietness of the highway instead of the many unanswered questions that he had.

“I hope you aren’t getting too comfortable down there.”

The Winchester let out a sigh when he heard the voice, and peeked an eye open to stare up at it’s owner who in turn just inclined his head slightly as he looked down at him.

“Well I  _was_.” Dean grumbled, removing his hands from behind his head and propping himself up on his elbows with a little groan. “What d’you want?”

“There’s something I need you to get for me—”

The former hunter cut him off with another groan, flopping back down in exasperation  “Is a little R&R  _not_  one of the perks or something to this whole, knight thing? You just had me fetch you something today, dude, m’tired.”

The devil frowned a little, his brows furrowing a bit in perplexity as he observed the other for a moment. “You’re a demon, Dean, you don’t require rest..”

“Yeah, well…that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t  _like_  to get some every now and then..” 

“I don’t see the point in having something that you don’t need…”

Dean raised an eyebrow, sitting up a little again to stare at the fallen angel. “Yeah? Then what’s the deal with all this stuff you keep having me get for you? Why do you need it so badly, huh?”

Lucifer gave him a pointed look. “That’s different, Dean. Now get up.”

He rolled his eyes a bit, before holding his hand out. “Fine, help me up.”

The fallen angel looked down at him for a moment, before grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet— _and perhaps a bit too close_.

“…Thanks.” Dean muttered, quickly slipping his hand from the Morningstar’s grip and taking a step back. “So what is it this time?”

The devil clasped his hands together behind his back, “There’s a box in one of my crypts—”

Dean made a face. “ _Ugh_ , dude, not your crypts again. Those things are filthy. Seriously man, would it kill you to get some housekeeping out there once a week or something?” Lucifer rolled his eyes a bit at the remark, but Dean noticed the small smile ghosting across his lips, and the corners of his own quirked upward into a triumphant smirk.

“Just find the box and bring it back to me, Dean.”

“Yeah, fine, but I should get a raise for this.”

The archangel gave him a puzzled look, inclining his head slightly to the left “…I don’t even pay you, Dean…”

The former hunter shrugged, smirking a bit. “Well maybe you should start.”

—————

Dean grimaced as he looked around the crypt, fanning away cobwebs and dust as he searched. He had checked nearly every inch of the place, and still hadn’t found the object he was looking for. His brows furrowed a bit as he brushed himself off, maybe Lucifer had been mistaken it’s location, maybe the box was in another crypt.

“Looking for this?” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his head to find his younger brother leaning against the archway. He stared for a moment, before his eyes traveled to the box.  
  
“Sammy..” He began, warningly, as he slowly approached the other, stopping a few feet short of him.

Sam straightened, tucking the box firmly under his arm, and keeping his gaze steadily focused on his brother. “What’s in it, Dean?”

“…I don’t know”

The younger Winchester pulled his trademark bitchface. “That’s bullshit, Dean! Tell me what’s in it!”

Dean sighed in exasperation  “It’s the  _truth_  Sam! He doesn’t…he doesn’t tell me what’s in ‘em. He just sends me to get ‘em.”

The taller man’s brows knit together, and he looked puzzled for a moment. “He..you mean…You mean  _Lucifer_?” A look of betrayal washed over his features, “You’re  _working_ for him now?”

“Sam…..” 

“How…how could you work for  _him_  Dean?”

The eldest Winchester frowned, shaking his head a bit and looking away, unable to bear the heartbreak that was written all over his younger sibling’s face. “It’s not…it’s not how you think, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw clenched a bit, “It’s not how I think? Then how is it, Dean?” he stared at him for a moment, and when he didn’t receive a response he continued speaking, “You said you were going out for drinks one night and then you…you disappeared for  _months_ Dean. Cas and I looked everywhere for you, and we couldn’t find a single trace, _nothing_.” His voice quieted a bit “And then…then when you  _finally_  show back up again you’re…”

“A monster?” Dean offered in an attempt to finish his brothers sentence for him.

The younger man’s expression softened slightly, “Dean…”

Dean just smiled, wryly, “Go ahead, Sammy, just say it, we both know it’s what you’re thinking.”  _It’s true anyways_ , he thought to himself afterwards.

“I just…I don’t  _understand_ , Dean. Any of it.”

The older Winchester frowned, “This…” his eyes flashed to black and he gestured to himself, to indicate that he was talking about having become a demon, “This wasn’t part of the deal, Sam, I never planned on this, and you gotta believe that..”

Sam only frowned in confusion, his brows furrowing “ _What_   _deal,_  Dean? What…what did you  _do_??”

Dean swallowed, “I made a trade, with Lucifer.”

“For  _what_? Why?”

He looked at his not-so-little little brother for a moment before speaking. “You, Sam. I made a trade for  _you_.” Sam looked taken aback, and he continued his explanation ”I didn’t go out for drinks that night I disappeared, I went to find the devil and tried to trap him in holy fire—Yeah, I know, not one of my smartest ideas, you don’t gotta tell me..”

He paused, to wet his lips a bit, “Long story short, it didn’t work and I got my ass kicked, and I…I was outta ideas, Sam, he was gonna come after you, and I panicked, I said I’d be his vessel instead.”

The younger Winchester looked horrified at the idea, “What? Why would you do that Dean??”

“Cause I figured that if he had me, he wouldn’t need you, and I was right. Why do you think he’s backed off, Sam?”

“Then why are you a  _demon_ , Dean? Why—Why isn’t he walking around as you?”

Dean frowned a bit, running a hand through his hair, “He said he’d take me in exchange for you, but that he wasn’t gonna use me as his vessel…Then he said he had to make it so that Michael couldn’t wear me either, and then…next thing I knew I was in hell…”

The corners of Sam’s mouth tugged downward, into a frown, “And that’s….that’s where you were? All this time?”

He nodded “Yeah, Sammy, that’s where I’ve been.”

“And he just….has you running errands for him?”

The elder Winchester laughed a bit, “Yeah, something like that. He uh, knighted me…I guess he left out the part where that basically just makes me a glorified delivery boy, speaking of which…” His gaze traveled back to the box tucked safely under his brothers arm, “…I really need that box, Sammy.”


	8. Bows

Dean heaved out a heavy sigh while threading bloody fingers through his hair; staining the strands with a reddish hue in the process, before setting down the instrument in his other hand and taking a few steps back. He stared at the soul on the rack, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he surveyed every bloodied inch of it. The soul was— _or had been_ —a rather portly little man, already visibly balding despite the fact that he couldn’t have been any older than his mid 30’s.

The former hunter hummed a bit, appreciatively, as he looked over his handiwork, a small smirk beginning to form at the raspy, wheezing sounds emitted from the man. “You don’t sound so good, dude.” He drawled out in mock concern, before breaking into a grin, “Guess a crushed larynx’ll do that to a guy, huh?” The man simply gasped in response, the blood pooling into his mouth from his throat causing him to gurgle slightly.

“You ain’t much of the talkin’ kind, are ya?” Dean quipped, blindly reaching over and grabbing another tool from the table and beginning to carve a jagged line along the man’s abdomen, relishing at the choked whimpers this action induced. “Well that’s alright,” he smirked, using his other hand to pry away and peel back bits of the loose hanging flesh, “I like to be able to focus on my work without any distractions.” He stripped the flesh away at a painstakingly slow pace; in thin strips, and little chunks, rather than quickly and as a whole.

“You know…I used to be in your position…a long time ago…” He paused, discarding another chunk of flesh “Strapped down to this thing, with some black eyed bastard carving into me, just like i’m doing to you right now.” He gave the knife a sharp twist, before pushing it in deeper and dragging it across the man’s stomach, his intestines spilling out through the slit and dangling just an inch or so from the floor. “I used to be  _human_.”

The corners of his lips tugged downward, and he frowned at his current train of thought. Truthfully he wasn’t sure why he was speaking to the man at all instead of just slicing him up in silence— _let alone why he was talking to him about his lost humanity._

A part of him— _the part that still had the audacity to occasionally feel even vaguely human,_   _the part that had been the bane of his existence since his transformation from person to demon,_  thought that maybe he was speaking to the man out of loneliness.

But that was stupid. He wasn’t lonely.

_Was he?_

His frown deepened slightly as he thought more. Maybe he was.

The only person— _being_ , he did much ( _or any_ ) speaking to in hell was the devil, and at the moment Dean was opting not to talk to him unless he had to. Over the last few days he’d become shockingly aware of just how…comfortable, he was beginning to feel around the archangel, and comfortable around Satan was something that he refused to allow himself to be, and so he had begun to withdraw completely.

 _Lucifer wasn’t his friend_ , he had reminded himself the last time they had talked. No matter how fondly the fallen angel may have smiled at him at times, or how— _beneath his guise of mild irritation_ —it seemed that he almost  _welcomed_  Dean’s intrusive and unscheduled visits to his chambers.

‘ _He doesn’t see you as a friend_ ’. Dean thought to himself. ‘ _If anything you’re like an interesting pet to him. If he was your friend, he’d have told you what was up with all those dumb boxes and scrolls._ ‘ His last encounter with Sam has raised several questions that he didn’t know the answers to, and honestly, that was all this was about.

It wasn’t like he actually _cared_ about whether or not the archangel viewed him as a friend or anything, (‘ _shut up, I don’t_ ’ _he internally barked at the part of him that protested this._ ) —but rather the fact that something,  _in this case the intent and purpose for all the items he was gathering_ , was being kept from him.

And Dean had never been a big fan of keeping secrets— _unless of course, they were his own._

“You seem a little…distracted, something on your mind, Dean?”

_Well speak of the devil._

“Just trying to decide whether I wanna tie this guy’s guts up into knots or bows” he retorted, twisting around a bit to glance behind him at the other.

The Morningstar smirked slightly, regarding the former hunter with an amused look, before cocking his head a bit and leaning to the left to peer past him, “I think bows would look rather nice, personally, though I suppose if you’re freeing  _really_  creative you could do both..”

“Both?” Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile forming itself on his lips “You don’t think that’d look a little…tacky?”

The devil chuckled softly, and Dean became vaguely aware of that feeling of being comfortable in his presence creeping back up on him again. “So, uh, d’you need something?” He questioned, trying to smother the feeling as quickly as it’d started.

Lucifer shrugged, nonchalantly, striding a bit closer and looking at the various knives and scalpels laid out on the table. “Nothing in particular…” He picked one of the knives up, tilting his head a bit and looking at his reflection in it. “You just haven’t come to bother me lately, so I thought that maybe I’d come bother  _you_  instead.” he set the blade back down, innocently looking back at Dean “Is there anything wrong with that?” 

The Winchester looked at him for a moment, smirking slightly, “Ya know, If I didn’t know better, I might think you missed me..”

Another chuckle, followed by a playful “Don’t flatter yourself, Dean, I was simply… _bored_ , without you around to annoy me..”

_Yeah, Lucifer totally didn’t see him as a friend._


End file.
